


it’s ok, i wouldn’t remember me either

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Based on the crywank song, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I should stop venting before my friends get concerned lmao, Mentions of Suicide, its kinda a happy ending tho, its percy back with another vent fic, really its just pure angst bullshit, so thats a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:09:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: self-deprecating thoughtsinterrupting all the time,emphasizing all the traits that i wish weren't minethey speak louder than everybody~~~or, jeremy’s voice isn’t the loudest anymore





	it’s ok, i wouldn’t remember me either

Jeremy was pretty much fed up with whatever life he was living now. He had thought the SQUIP was supposed to fix everything, make him fine and cool and chill, and make him wonderful, and take away all his bad parts. Instead he was left with the feeling that he was even worse than before, as if he was tumbling through darkness and trying to clutch at the pinpricks of light that he saw. 

 

He didn’t want to be awake again. It wasn’t like he actually did anything as it was, not since it was summer. He stayed curled in his bed, on top of the sheets, his head in his hands and his tear ducts empty. He didn’t even have the energy to cry anymore. He hadn’t cried for almost four days, and he’d definitely wanted to. It was like he was just completely empty, of happiness and tears and effort.

 

He was sure that if he stepped foot outside, if he answered his texts, if he even got up to eat, he’d literally fall to bits. He’d shatter into a million pieces, and really, he wasn’t sure if the pieces were even all there anymore. They seemed scattered to the winds, like miniature specks of dust. He felt like he could be everywhere and nowhere at once.

 

Jeremy kept searching for a way to hide his thoughts, especially from his dad, and Michael. Mask the thoughts with an empty smile and a few words and lies, then he was fine. Tell other that you were okay, and you could convince your own brain. Right?

 

He wished he could do what he did when he was eleven years old. He wished he could pack up all his things and run away, disappear for a few weeks. Or a few years. Or forever. He’d really, really like to disappear forever. Maybe then his friends could forget the pain he’d caused them, forget that they were ever ‘friends’ with him. Then, from wherever the hell he was, he could watch his friends move on and do better if he wasn’t there dragging him down.

 

But no matter how far away from his home he ran, or wanted to, Jeremy couldn’t hide from the thing he truly wanted to get away from. The voice in his head that kept whispering self-deprecating things to him whenever he tried to do anything, telling him how much of a loser he was. How much he should just go finish it all. The SQUIP spoke louder than everything, even notifying him that his serotonin levels were significantly lower than they should be. 

 

Jeremy figured if he kept his eyes closed so he couldn’t see the tiny blue shimmer out of the corner of his eye he’d be fine. But although he couldn’t see the remnants of his stupid mistakes, he could definitely hear them. The silky smooth computer generated words sneaking into his thoughts and emotions, manipulating and convincing him that this was what he definitely deserved. He shouldn’t even have these friends, they didn’t even like him for him. They liked him for SQUIPped him. 

 

When Jeremy did text his friends, he complained, almost as a reflex. His words, even as he typed them, made him want to retch. Why did he get to complain? They had all been SQUIPped too, they all had their own issues. He didn’t have the fucking right to do anything like that. So he fell silent and let them rant or talk, giving the most minimal answers he could, even when they asked him to talk about what he was up to, or asked him to hang out. He’d say he had plans, or he had something scheduled, or that he was sick. He guessed that it wasn’t quite a lie. Or that’s what he told himself. Or was that some outside force telling him that? He couldn’t even tell anymore.

 

He hated himself so much. He hated the way he acted, both pre, during and post SQUIP. He hated his own thoughts, even the ones not influenced by the computer implanted in his brain, still pulsing wavelengths of thoughts to him when he was awake, and usually filtering into his dreams. He hated the way he thought and acted. 

 

Sometimes he just wanted to end it all, end whatever hell people considered reality. But something held him back, some odd spark of hope that kept him from downing the pills or tying the knot or slicing his skin. Some remnant of hope left behind from before, before he had fucked everything up. 

 

So, he’d remain intact for today. He’d stay curled on his bed and staring at his wall, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. He just didn’t want to do anything. He didn’t want to be awake again to spend the rest of his days with his head cradled in his hands. Jeremy knew he was falling apart and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

 

Well, he did know how to stop it, but he clung to the desperate fact that it would get better. He didn’t want to resort to that, even as it was quickly showing itself to be the best and most logical option. He shut that down. 

 

He had to move on. Jeremy found himself staring at his phone screen, his texts sitting, unread. He hadn’t picked it up in almost four days. Floods of texts from his friends made him feel somehow worse than he had felt when he had thought they were ignoring him. But reading over his texts, he felt a feeling that really shouldn’t have been unfamiliar, but felt so foreign to him in that moment that he almost shied from it. 

 

A smile. He was smiling. He hadn’t smiled in a while, he couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. But that’s when he realized. This was the spark of hope he had. The fact that they still, somehow, cared, even when he had been a dick, and selfish, and terrible and a loser and everything else he used to be and still was.

 

Maybe, just maybe, life wasn’t a total cesspool. If he had friends to have his back, he would be okay. And maybe this mood wouldn’t last long, and maybe he’d go right back to being depressed later. He’d definitely do that. 

 

But he had his friends, if only for right now, and he’d take what he could get.

 

And honestly?

 

He thought that his friends were the possible best thing that he could ever receive. 

**Author's Note:**

> lmao its another vent because
> 
> its the only way to get out my emotions!! yayzzles
> 
> but um
> 
> see you next post kiddos
> 
> stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves!!
> 
> ~PlayerTwoHeere


End file.
